


nightmares

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adorable Eren, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffity Fluff Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jean Kirstein is a Little Shit, M/M, Nightmares, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, Sweet, Sweetness, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, adorable jean, eren is passionate about the environment, slightest tiniest hint of reincarnation, somewhat absurd premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Jean and Eren are freshman roommates who hate each other. Eren has nightmares.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 26
Kudos: 262





	nightmares

Everyone says that the freshman roommate situation is a gamble. You could end up with a friend for life, or you could end up being shackled to your worst enemy.

Of course, with Jean’s luck, he ends up with the latter.

When he first meets Eren Jaeger, he doesn’t think he’s that bad– he even thinks that they might get along. But after 24 hours in Eren’s presence, he knows he will be that bad, and that there’s no way in hell they will ever get along.

After 72 hours, it’s an absolute certainty that Jaeger is Public Enemy #1. 

Because Jean hates everything about him. His overbearing personality, his heavy tread, his loud voice, his terrible taste in music, his horrendous fashion sense. But what he hates the absolute most about Eren fucking Jaeger is his endless preaching about what Jean should be doing to save the world.

It’s a few weeks into the school year and Marco from down the hall has set up a Friday night party in the common room on the first floor. It’s a party that has morphed into it’s second phase as the inhabitants of the dorm next door have started to trickle in.

The third-floor gang has taken over one of the beat-up couches in the corner, and Eren is holding court on the armrest.

“Because the plankton are eating the plastic and think it’s food, so they don’t eat actual food – “

Jean rolls his eyes. Can’t Eren let if rest for five minutes at a _party?_

Eren, who happens to be looking his way at the exact moment the eye rolling occurs, catches it.

Jean watches in fascination as his response plays out, step by visible step. Eren immediately stops speaking. Then he frowns. His face flushes a deep, dark, red. He slides off the arm rest. He stomps over until he is looming over Jean, shaking his fist right in Jean’s face.

“So you think what I’m saying is ridiculous, huh?”

While other people might cave from this type of head-on assault, it only stiffens Jean’s resolve. Plus, the tension with Eren has been building for weeks, and he’s happy for an excuse to have it out.

He jumps lightly to his feet, forcing Eren back a step. “Yeah, I do think you endlessly ranting and raving at a party on a Friday night is kind of ridiculous.”

“You won’t think it’s ridiculous when there are no more fish in the ocean.”

This is what pisses Jean off the most. That Eren thinks he has bought the license on moral authority, and that anyone who doesn’t carry their passion on their sleeve the way he does isn’t allowed in the Ethical Club.

“You act like I don’t care about what’s happening to the environment. Which is just not true, no matter how much you want it to be. But chill out, man! You don’t need to be going at 100 miles an hour all the fucking time. Take a break!”

Apparently, Eren can’t. “You stupid moron. You think that it’s okay that all the fish are starving because the oceans are filled with plastic?”

“Of course I don’t think it’s okay. But it doesn’t have to be _everything, all the time_. You can still have a good time on a Friday night, relax a little.”

But Eren is too far gone to acknowledge that there might possibly be a grain of truth in this statement.

“How are you going to keep _chilling out_ when the planet has warmed past the turning point and climate change has pushed the globe into chaos?”

Eren is right in his face, and then Eren’s fist bumps into Jean’s chest. Which is… not okay. 

Jean juts his chin out, plants his own hands on Eren, and pushes. 

Before he knows it, Eren is swinging at him, a punch that connects. Then Jean is swinging back, and they each get in a few solid punches before Marco has grabbed Jean’s arms and Mikasa has wrestled Eren into the couch.

At the cost of a tableful of drinks spilling to the ground.

“Thanks for ruining my party, man,” says Marco in a disgusted tone of voice. Jean, shamefaced, does his best to extract the beer that has already seeped into the common room carpet.

“Why is that woman always giving me death glares?” asks Jean, when Mikasa and Armin have finally left their room.

“Maybe because you’re such an arrogant asshole?” Eren answers calmly.

“What? _I’m_ the asshole here?”

“Yes! You are! You always come in here and sit at your desk listening to your pretentious music and ignore us like we’re vermin!”

“I – I – I do not!” protests Jean, although he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on here. He does come in, and he does sit at his own desk, and he does listen to his music with his headphones on. Because Jean needs that time to himself. He needs time to decompress, to not talk to anyone. And he no longer has that time, because of Eren Jaeger, who is now officially the Bane of His Existence.

“Yeah, you do," says Eren. “We may not be on the crew team, but that doesn’t mean we’re _subhuman_.”

“The reason you’re subhuman is not because you’re not on the crew team,” Jean says reflexively, then spins around, wary. Perhaps he shouldn’t have voiced that particular thought out loud.

Eren actually growls at him. But he controls himself with effort and Jean is glad it’s not going to turn into another fist fight. They’ve had far too many of those already. It definitely stokes the flames of war, though.

Pretty soon, they’re no longer even talking to each other. Just navigating the icy wall of silence that constitutes Roommate Hell, leaving notes on each other’s desks when they have any specific grievances to air.

Three weeks later, Jean is woken up to the sound of banshees swooping around their bunk bed. At least, that’s what he thinks it is. It’s only when their neighbor starts pounding on the wall and he’s fully awake that he realizes that it’s Eren, screaming and sobbing in the top bunk.

“Jesus Christ, Jaeger, what the hell is going on up there? Is your entire Neanderthal village getting bludgeoned to death or something?” Jean looks at the clock. It’s 2 in the morning. “Shit! I have to be up in 4 hours for crew practice.”

But then he thinks to himself that maybe this will be pretty good ammunition to throw at Eren on some future occasion. What could be more perfect than telling a nice, juicy crowd about Eren waking up crying in the middle of the night?

Until he hears a small, confused un-Eren-ish voice ask, “K-k-kirstein?”

Suddenly it’s not a game anymore.

“Yeah?” he asks gruffly. And something about that lost voice prompts him to ask, “Are you alright?”

“Sorry,” mutters Eren, sounding more like himself. “It was a nightmare.” The one Eren’s had since he was little. A strange, troubling dream featuring giant monsters that eat people. That eat his mom. 

The doctors have all said that it was the trauma of his mothers’ death in a car accident that kicked it off. But Eren has never quite believed them. When he has it, the nightmare feels so _real –_ far more like a memory than a dream.

Eren had thought _– hoped – prayed_ – that the nightmare would go away when he went to college. That it was linked, somehow, to his mother’s lost presence in their house. But apparently it wasn’t.

“If you want to request a different roommate, that’s okay with me,” Eren goes on to mumble.

“What?!” that’s not what Jean is expecting to hear.

“The nightmare isn’t going to stop coming,” says Eren in an uncharacteristically defeated tone of voice.

“No?”

“No.”

“Have you tried, um, warm milk or something?”

Eren bites out, “Yes I’ve tried warm milk and _many_ somethings.”

“Even, um, a psychiatrist?”

Eren snorts. “Of course I’ve tried a fucking psychiatrist. About five psychiatrists. _And_ psychologists – yes, I know the difference now – and sleep specialists, and neurologists, and even freaking hypnotists. They all say it’s because of my mother’s death and they give me pills, and exercises, and sleep tapes, and breathing regimens, and _nothing fucking works_.” The last three words are punctuated with punches to the mattress. Jean can feel the force of each one, rocking the steel bed frame.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Calm down. I was only trying to help.”

“Well, you can’t!” Eren’s voice is bubbling over with frustration.

“Does it happen every night?” Jean can’t help asking. “Have I just not woken up before?”

“No. It comes randomly, often in waves. I’ll probably have it again tomorrow night. Although it’s often not exactly the same. I don’t always… make so much noise.” Jean can hear the humiliation in Eren’s voice – he must know he was shrieking and crying.

“It wasn’t so bad.” Jean inexplicably finds himself saying. He realizes he is trying to comfort Eren. Perhaps it’s because he’s no stranger to nightmares himself. There was a period in his childhood where he had nightmares almost every time he fell asleep. It’s surprisingly fresh in his memory, how they curled around him, how he felt like he was going to sink into the awful blackness forever. The kind of blackness that has absolutely no escape. The kind where you’ve been running as hard as you can for ages and then you realize your feet are stuck in concrete and you haven’t moved one inch forward. Even now, years later, he shivers at the thought.

“Do you want to, um, join me down here?”

There is a silence. Jean doesn’t know if it’s he himself or Eren who is more stunned by this offer. He tries to explain.

“I used to, uh, have nightmares too. The only thing that really helped was when I went into my sister’s bed. Then I could sleep.”

“How old were you?”

A beat of silence. “Five.”

Eren snorts.

“Seriously!” says Jean. “If nothing else works, what do you have to lose?” As soon as the words are out, he’s wondering why the hell he’s the one trying to convince Eren. He hates that self-righteous bastard! But now he’s got the memory of his own nightmares fresh in his mind, and, to be honest, he really wouldn’t wish those on his worst enemy. And Eren’s sound like they’re a whole lot worse than his ever were.

There is a pause. Jean can literally feel the wheels turning in Eren’s head.

Finally, “Are you sure?” Eren asks in a low voice

Jean doesn’t understand why Eren’s response feels like a victory. All Jean is winning is what will most likely be a sleepless night.

“Yeah, man. I’m sure. Nightmares suck.”

“And you won’t tell anyone?” This is asked with suspicion.

Even though this is exactly what Jean had been planning to do only minutes earlier, he says, with self-righteous indignation, “Of course I won’t tell anyone! I’m not an asshole!”

Eren pauses, as though poised to debate this assertion. Perhaps recognizing that it would not be in his best interests to do so, he merely says, “Um, okay then. Thanks.”

Even though he’s the one who offered, Jean is a bit taken aback. He hadn’t really expected Eren to agree. This more than anything convinces him of the seriousness of the nightmare.

“Do you want the window or aisle seat?” he asks, as he hears Eren moving above him.

“The aisle,” Eren answers promptly. “I need an escape route.”

Jean swallows a snappy retort when he realizes that Eren probably isn’t joking. He pushes one of his pillows to the edge of the bed, then wiggles up against the wall.

Eren clambers in, awkward and bony, jamming his knees into Jean’s thighs and his elbows into Jean’s arms.

“Ow! Be careful!”

“Sorry,” says Eren. As he settles in, he says, admiringly, “This is a sweet pillow.” It is. Jean is a sucker for good pillows – soft, downy fluffiness that he can sink his head into.

It’s weird, being squeezed in here with Eren. But it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. For one thing, there’s no awkward conversation. They both get right down to the business of going back to sleep. For another, now that he’s calmed down, Eren is a surprisingly easy-going bedmate. He doesn’t move around that much, and there’s even something comforting about his warm, solid body pushed up against Jean’s.

“Hey, uh, thanks for last night,” says Eren, looking at the floor, his face red. Jean can tell he’s hugely embarrassed. But Jean asserted last night that he wasn’t an asshole, and he’s going to live up to that assertion. 

“It’s no problem. I slept perfectly well,” he says honestly. “It’s fine. Anytime you want to crash with me. As long as it doesn’t bother you when I wake up for crew practice. And, if it’ll help with your, uh, sleep thing, I’m happy to do it.”

Eren is surprised into looking up. “Thanks,” he says quickly, his eyes bright.

Eren goes to bed much later than Jean, and, it’s funny, Jean finds himself awakening briefly whenever Eren slides in. He starts, of all things, asking Eren how his day went. _How absurdly domestic_ , he finds himself thinking, but does it anyway.

That’s how he learns that Eren’s biochem test went pretty well, and that he submitted his application for the environmental internship, which he’s really excited about.

Eren asks _him_ things too.

And Jean tells him when he beats his personal erg record, or complains about how much of a dick his history professor is. He is even able, one night, to say that he doesn’t mean to be a jerk to Eren’s friends. “Sometimes I just need to kind of check out, be by myself. A lot of the time, actually.”

To his surprise, Eren nods, and says, “Yeah. I can see that. No problem.”

So the next time Jean barges in on Eren, Armin and Mikasa, he carefully takes off his headphones, nods and says _Hello_ , asks how they’re doing, and then says, “I’m just gonna listen to music on my bed, OK? You can pretend I’m not here.”

They both nod back, and Armin even smiles at him. That night when Eren slides into Jean’s bed, he gives Jean’s hand a quick squeeze before snuggling into Jean’s pillow.

Jean wakes up early one morning, about two months into this new sleeping arrangement, flat on his back. Eren is lying halfway across him, his arm tucked in between Jean and the wall. He is drooling onto Jean’s shirt (Jean can feel the wet spot), and his hair is soft under Jean’s chin. Jean starts to wiggle drowsily out from under him when Eren’s arm tightens around his waist, and Eren’s nose tries to burrow into his chest.

Jean feels something in himself tighten in response, and _No!_ Jean does _not_ think it’s freaking adorable! _No!_ he does _not_ want to curl right up around Eren and stay in bed with him. And _No!_ He is _not_ going to leave a kiss on Eren’s messy hair before he leaves. His eyes jolt open. _Shit!_ Thank goodness Eren is sound asleep. What the fuck was _that_ all about?

Later that week, something even more disturbing happens. Marco is having another Friday night party in the common room, just like at the beginning of the year. It’s a relaxed, more intimate affair, though, with some good music playing. Jean is feeling pretty chill, enjoying the buzz after a particularly hard-core week both on the water and in his classes.

Jean glances over and sees Eren leaning against the wall, talking animatedly. His hands are flying around, his eyes are bright, and he’s got that tilt to his head that he gets when he’s particularly excited about something. He must be talking about the environmental internship he got, Jean thinks fondly. He’s already heard all the details. Jean is smiling, because the fall of Eren’s hair across his forehead is so familiar, and the way he’s standing is so familiar, and the whole picture is familiar, and also so fucking cute, and … _What!!?_ This time, there’s no mistaking it. There’s no putting it off as a sleepy daze. Jean is wide awake and happy, and… head over heels in love with that fucker.

After he gets over the lurch of astonishment, and his eyes flick back to Eren, he also takes in the sight of the woman talking to him. She’s obviously into Eren herself. Well, why wouldn’t she be? Eren is the most gorgeous person Jean has ever met. And the most passionate. And endearing. And _what the fuck is Jean saying_ , even if it’s only in his mind?

And the woman is small and pretty and almost as adorable as Eren, with her huge blue eyes and her shiny golden hair. Jean has met her a few times, and she’s also, he curses to himself, a nice person, and really smart. Of course Eren would be into her, too.

When he sees the woman laugh and latch on to Eren’s arm, and Eren laugh right back at her, he looks away. No way is he going to subject himself to the sight of Eren actually _falling_ for someone and maybe even _making out_ with her. Jean stands up abruptly, throws his empty bottle into the recycling bin, and angrily makes his way up the stairs.

That night, when Eren climbs into bed, Jean rolls stiffly onto his side, his back to Eren.

“What’s wrong?” Eren asks immediately.

Jean doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re awake,” says Eren, prodding Jean’s back. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” says Jean. But Eren doesn’t buy it.

“You’re so tense.”

“So?”

“The party was fun, wasn’t it?” Eren asks, obviously trying to make conversation, and just as obviously oblivious to what he is doing to Jean with that innocent statement. “I met this woman, Historia. I think you’d like her. She’s a very interesting person.”

“Nggh,” grunts Jean.

And Eren must finally get the hint because he shuts up, and pretty soon Jean can hear the deep, slightly snuffling breathing that indicates Eren is really, truly asleep.

Jean can’t help rolling over. There is a full moon tonight, casting enough light for Jean to be able to see Eren’s face, angelic in repose.

He carefully smooths the hair away from Eren’s forehead, then settles on his back, staring rigidly up at the bunk above him. What the fuck is he going to do now?

The obvious next step would be to tell Eren, but no way in a million years is _that_ going to happen.

So he settles for the next best thing: his default mode – being an asshole.

The following night, he doesn't fall asleep, but waits, his body purposefully spread out over the whole mattress. He hears Eren’s usual stomping footsteps come to an abrupt halt as he nears the bed. Then a very cautious, “Jean”?

Jean is careful to keep his breathing slow and steady and his face relaxed.

Jean can’t quite quell a secret, tiny hope that Eren will merely push him over to his side and clamber in anyway. But Eren doesn’t. Instead, he climbs up into his own bed.

“You okay?” Eren asks the next day. “Anything going on with your classes?”

“Totally fine,” says Jean breezily. “School’s great. And you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m good, too. Just, you seemed, kind of, I dunno, off?”

“Nah, I’m peachy keen.” Jean plunks his headphones back on his head and gets back to work, ignoring the look of hurt that flies briefly across Eren’s face.

Eren goes into his own bed again that night, and, once again, Jean finds himself feeling stupidly disappointed that Eren didn’t fight his way more forcefully into Jean’s bed.

The next night is the same. And the next. And the next. The days aren’t much better, with Eren looking more and more hurt, and Jean hunching even further into himself.

Until two weeks later, when Jean wakes up to Eren thrashing around in the upper bunk.

It’s three in the morning, but Jean is instantly up the ladder and crawling in next to Eren. He has to duck his head because the ceiling is low.

“Eren,” he says softly.

Eren is crying, almost sobbing, tears pouring out of his closed eyes.

“Mom,” he says, in a horrible cracked whisper. “No!!!!!”

“Hey, shhhh,” says Jean. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just a dream.” He lies down carefully on the sliver of bed available to him, pulling Eren’s writhing body up against his. He feels incredibly, horribly guilty. Why would he rather be an asshole than be brave?

Eren almost instantly calms down. The tears slow to a trickle. Jean is readying himself to hightail it out of there when Eren’s eyes open.

“J-j-jean?” he says in his small, frightened, after-nightmare voice.

“Yeah, Eren. It’s me. I’m right here.”

Eren’s terrified hands grab Jean like he’s grabbing a life raft. 

“That thing… ate my mom. It bit her head off, and then it ate the rest of her.”

Jean doesn’t know what to say to this horrifying statement, so he sticks to the script.

“It was a nightmare. It isn't real.”

“That’s the thing. I know it _is_ real.” Eren is starting to get anxious. “And she was struggling to get away, but it was too strong.” His hands are gripping Jean tightly enough to leave bruises. "It lifted her up and ate her.” His breathing is growing more and more ragged. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” Jean can hear the desperation in his voice.

Jean is about to repeat something about it being a dream, and not real. But all of the sudden he thinks to himself, who is _he_ to know whether or not it was real? The imagery is so vivid. And Jean doesn’t know everything in the universe.

As he thinks this, there is a fleeting image in his own mind, of huge teeth, and large, grabbing fingers, coupled with a strange sensation of flying through the air. He tries vainly to hold on to it, but it's gone as quickly as it came.

But instead of telling Eren that he was merely having a bad dream, he says, “That’s really shitty, Eren. I’m sorry that happened to her. It must have been awful to see that.”

And just like that, Eren relaxes. He falls easily back into his spot, half on top of Jean, with his head tucked under Jean’s chin. Jean rubs soothing circles on his back and nuzzles into his hair, and all he can think is _if only_ – _if only_ Eren felt the same way he did.

He keeps it up, gently rubbing Eren’s back until he thinks Eren has fallen asleep. Jean has almost drifted off himself when Eren says, his voice low and hurt-sounding, “Why did you stop making room for me in your bed?”

Jean considers pretending to be asleep. He’s sure he could get away with it. But… Eren woke up sobbing in Jean’s arms, insisting his dreams were real, which is about as vulnerable a position a person could possibly get into. He deserves a little honesty. The darkness, and not having to look into Eren’s eyes when Jean’s talking, help.

“I was afraid,” Jean whispers.

Eren draws in a quick breath. “Of me,” he says bitterly.

“No, you moron!” Jean answers sharply. Trust Eren to make it all about _him_. “Of – of – " He has to give himself a push before he can continue, “of how I felt about you.”

Eren freezes _. Shit._ Jean carefully lifts his hand off of Eren’s back.

“How – how _do_ you feel about me?” Eren asks, in a barely audible whisper.

Even though it’s a dark night, Jean puts a hand over his eyes. It’s so hard to say it out loud. But he’s already stepped off the cliff, nothing for it but to jump all the way.

“I like you,” he mutters. “A lot.”

Whew. He’s gotten it out. But doing so brings with it an urgent need to flee. He jolts upright, forgetting that he is in the top bunk.

His head hits the ceiling with a bang. 

“Fuck!” he says loudly.

Muffled laughter comes from Eren’s vicinity.

“Stop laughing, you dork! That hurt!”

“You’re the dork,” says Eren, and Jean can hear the smile in his voice. “C’mere.”

Eren reaches out blindly and grabs Jean, pulling him back down onto the bed.

As Jean falls into place next to him, he says, “I like you too, you idiot. How could I not?”

Well, Jean can think of many, many reasons why Eren would not. But he’s not about to quibble, not when Eren is rolling onto Jean and straddling his hips, bent over so he doesn’t hit his head. Not when Eren is leaning in on his hands, pinning Jean down with those magic, witchy eyes of his - eyes that are gleaming, even in the darkness.

Not when his own hands are running up Eren’s arms, tangling in his hair, pulling Eren fiercely down to him. Not when Eren is kissing him, tender kisses that send chills up and down his spine. Not when Eren’s teeth are eagerly nipping at his bottom lip. Not when Eren’s mouth is blazing a hot, greedy trail down his neck.

Jean pulls Eren back up by the hair for an ardent kiss, moaning into it.

He breaks away to ask, “Eren?”

“Hmmm?” Eren says distractedly, taking the opportunity to lick at the arch of Jean’s ear.

“This isn’t a dream, is it? Or a nightmare?”

Eren bites down, none too gently. “Shut up, you moron,” he growls.

And then Eren is kissing him again, wet, hungry kisses, and Jean really doesn’t care if it _is_ a dream, as long as it doesn’t stop.


End file.
